


These Days

by kirakirababy



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Character Death, Gay, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Romance, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakirababy/pseuds/kirakirababy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had started with a pencil.<br/>An unassuming mechanical pencil that you just couldn't seem to keep between your fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Days

These days, it seems like I shouldn't miss you as much as I do.

But I do.

_“...six months to live.”_

_It had started with a pencil._  
An unassuming mechanical pencil that you just couldn't seem to keep between your fingers.  
I didn't pay it much thought at the moment, glancing your way from where I was sitting on the couch, sipping a latte, when you sighed, exasperated.  
When you noticed me looking at you, you smiled and shrugged.  
“It's the strangest thing. I just can't seem to write anything.”  
I smiled back at you, “writer's block?”  
You furrowed your brow and placed your shaking hand over the pencil on the paper.  
“Must be...” 

_But it wasn't just an isolated event._  
You started dropping things more and more.  
A wine glass here.  
A book there. 

_Even then, I wasn't particularly concerned that anything was wrong._  
You were just a little clumsier than usual.  
You would laugh it off, apologizing profusely to Kai for staining his carpet, cursing under your breath for losing your page in the book. 

_Then there were the headaches._  
They started small.  
Just a slight throbbing behind your eyes.  
But they soon progressed into dizziness and nausea.  
You explained calmly that you had often had migraines as a child, and it was stress related. 

_Looking back now, I should have been worried._  
Hindsight is 20/20.  
Isn't that what they say? 

_But...it wasn't until you started slurring your words that I felt a pang of intense fear creep into my thoughts._

_“What did you just say?”_  
You looked at me, crossing your arms and tapping your foot.  
“I havetorepeatthe whole thing?”  
“You weren't enunciating.”  
“What are youtalkingabout?”  
You were annoyed.  
I was scared. 

_You vehemently protested going to the hospital.  
You had always hated hospitals._

_It was probably the most serious argument we'd ever had.  
I won._

_As you explained your symptoms to the doctor, holding my hand in a death-grip, I watched the doctor's face change. His lips tightened into a thin line, and his eyes seemed to grow a shade darker.  
I knew something was wrong._

_A battery of tests was ordered.  
I couldn't forget the look the doctor had given you._

_A kind looking, older doctor with thinning black hair, who introduced himself as a neuro-oncologist shook our hands as we sat uncomfortably in his stuffy office._

_“The MRI has confirmed my initial suspicions...” My mind began racing to keep up with what the doctor was saying, but he seemed to be on mute in my mind, “GBM, stage four... cancerous tumor...” with only the tiniest amount of information sinking in... “...because of the location and size of the tumor...” tumor? “...inoperable. We will of course provide you with all available options for aggressive treatment including chemo-therapy and radiation...” I couldn't feel my hands, and dropped my eyes from the doctor's rapidly moving lips to my lap. Your hands clutched mine so tightly that they were starting to become discolored. Splotches of red, white and blue. “Even with aggressive treatment, the likelihood that this tumor will...is very slim...”_  
“How long?” Your voice sounds robotic and strange to my ears.  
“Nothing is set in stone. Of course, if your body responds well to the treatment suggested, you could be looking at...one or two years...”  
“And...without treatment?”  
“It is difficult to determine the growth rate...” He meets your eyes and leans forward in his seat, “But based on the knowledge we have at this moment, you might have...six months to live...” 

_The drive home was torture._  
You stared straight ahead silently, eyes wide and empty.  
I tried my best to wait until we got home before succumbing to the mental breakdown I could feel battering at my control. 

_Walking up the apartment stairs, my hand on your lower back as you walked in front of me, I could feel the tears beginning to sting my eyes and my breath coming in shallow gasps._  
You stopped walking abruptly, your shoulders tensing as you spun around to meet my eyes.  
“Don't you dare cry.” The harsh tone of your voice snapped me out of the mind space I was moving towards.  
You were visibly trembling.  
“You can't cry...” You moved your hands to my shoulders, gripping them tightly and shaking me slightly. A whisper as you dropped your head, “ you can't cry... because I need you to be the strong one right now.” 

_***_  
We made desperate love that night.  
Like the world was ending.  
In a way, I suppose it was. 

_The next day, you told me the one thing I didn't want to hear._  
And I felt dread pool in the pit of my stomach.  
Coiling there like a dangerous snake. Cold and waiting. 

_“I will not go through aggressive treatment.”_  
“You don't need to make that decision right now.”  
“Yes. I do.”  
I closed my eyes.  
Helpless.  
“Look... Aoi...” You sat up in bed, leaning over me to look into my eyes while you spoke. “It's...it's inoperable. And rapidly growing. Even with the chemo...”  
“Uru.”  
You placed your hand on my chest, a light pressure, shaking your head. “Even with the chemo and radiation... I'm still...dying.”  
“But you could live longer.. two years...”  
“At best.” You moved your hand from my chest to my hair, smoothing it back away from my forehead tenderly. “I've seen what chemo does to a person.” Your grandmother had cancer. “And I'd rather spend six short months really living, than spend 2 long years throwing up in a chemo recovery room.”  
“It's your decision.”  
“Don't shut down, and don't give me that bullshit. You're the most important person in my life, and if you wanted me to do the chemo, I would. You know that.”  
“I know.”  
“And do you?”  
“Honestly?”  
“Honestly.”  
“Of course I do. I would be fucking insane not to want to keep you with me for as long as possible. But...”  
“But?”  
“Me acting like a selfish child is not a real reason to deny you of what you need.”  
You kissed me then.  
I felt a tear hit my eyelid.  
“Thank you.” You whispered. 

Five months flew by.  
Then six.

We finished your will.

Seven.

Besides the headaches, dizziness and nausea, the tumor took its time rearing its ugly head.  
You lost weight and the hearing in one ear.  
You spoke more slowly.  
Your fingers couldn't form chords.  
You still dropped things.  
Like chopsticks.

But you were the same Uruha you had been for as long as I had known you.  
Sunny and cheerful.  
Now I know... you just were putting on a brave face for everyone around you.

 

_“Let's go to Paris.”_  
“Paris?”  
“And then London, New York, Rome, Cairo, Beijing...”  
You laughed, resting your head on my shoulder and kissing my neck softly.  
“I'm tired.” And then, “we have to be back by March. I can't miss the cherry blossoms...” 

_We made it home from our self-titled, “live life like we're dying” tour of the world by the end of March.  
With thousands of pictures and a suitcase full of souvenirs for friends and family._

_We jokingly called them the bucket-list gifts._

_By then, you had started sleeping for most of the day, and I wanted nothing more than to watch you 24 hours a day. To remember every breath, every moment._

_When you had enough strength, we watched the cherry blossoms in Inokashira park.  
I even rented a boat because you wanted to watch them fall to the water._

_You cried._

_“No tears...we promised.”_  
I watched you smile between shuddering sobs.  
“Tears of joy are the exception.” You explained, taking me in your arms and burying your face in my chest. 

_“Are you afraid?”  
“No.”_

_I didn't believe you._

_I cried too._

 

 

It was an unusually cold April.  
The first time you let me see you really lose it.  
You were weak and frail by then, a year after the devastating prognosis.  
A ghost of the strong, vibrant person you once had been.  
Falling to your knees on the cold tile of the kitchen floor, your head in your hands, pulling at your hair, cries of frustration echoing through the apartment and tears of complete hopelessness running rivers down your cheeks.

Somehow, you knew it was almost time.

You never saw May.  
Slipping from this world to the next peacefully in your sleep.  
One last breath.  
No goodbyes.

The doctors say there was no pain.  
I'm not sure if they're including the pain that took the place of my heart.  
The utter despair of those you left behind.

You were buried in your family plot.  
A private affair.

Then came summer. The heavy, humid air of Tokyo and the chorus of thousands of cicadas outside our window.  
Honestly, I can only remember the heat and the noise.

It was stifling.

Scratch that. I can clearly remember the heat, the noise and the suffocating feeling of the twisting tentacles of an octopus.  
A pressure squeezing my heart so tightly I thought it must have no other option than to stop beating.  
To surrender.

I wanted to die.

Autumn was the hardest.

Friends were worried.  
Rightfully so.  
I could barely feed myself. I felt like I was being knocked down every day by crashing waves of grief.  
They pushed me off my feet.  
I often lost days to those waves.

But friends and family could only manage to say empty things like, “if you need anything...” or “how are you feeling today..?” With pitying eyes.  
They didn't know, how could they have, that what I needed more than anything was someone to just _do_ something.  
Anything.  
Walk into my apartment, throw open a window and force me to eat Chinese take-out.

It was during an autumn storm when I first realized that

_...how it is right now is how it's always going to be._

Winter was something of a black hole.

Interrupted by those crashing waves of grief that had been hitting me since April.  
Knocking me down when I least expected it.  
Reminded of you by the color of the sky.  
The laughter of a stranger.

By the time the new year came around, there was scarcely a memorable moment left of the year.  
Only those crashing waves of absolute sadness.

Recently, frosty windows and unbearably long winter nights have been slowly overtaken by songbirds and sunny spring flowers.

The waves still come, and I know they will forever.  
But right now, more days run together without the big ones.  
The ones that knock me over without warning. The ones that constrict the lungs and stab the heart.

Mostly they hit my neck now, and usually... I can stay standing.

 

_April again._

We're standing in a semi-circle around your gravestone.  
Arms fit around each other tightly, fingers grasping hips. Heads bowed and tears freely falling.  
It's piled high with flowers, incense and your favorite foods.  
The cherry blossoms are falling gently in the warm spring breeze, swirling around our feet.

A cherry blossom snow-storm.

These days, it seems like I shouldn't be able to see the beauty in life.

But I can.

I often find myself thinking, “there is so much of him left in each of us.”  
Every time Kai cracks a joke that only you would have found funny.  
Every time Reita pops open a bottle of sake with a “cat who got the cream” smile.  
Every time Ruki hugs me stealthily from behind, just like you used to.

Your friends are a reflection of your goodness, love and courage.  
Even though there are only four bodies standing closely together, consoling and embracing one another...

These days, you are still with us.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at http://sciencesaves.livejournal.com/13276.html


End file.
